


altum videtur amare

by dumbhotbitchknightgwaine



Category: Merlin (TV), Merlin BBC
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-10
Updated: 2020-05-26
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:27:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24117223
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dumbhotbitchknightgwaine/pseuds/dumbhotbitchknightgwaine
Summary: The kingdom of Ealdor had known peace for as long as Prince Emrys could remember, and as his time to become king grew closer, it seemed life would never change. But when the kingdom is suddenly attacked, and Merlin faced with death itself, a stranger saves his life, and changes it forever.
Relationships: Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 10
Kudos: 36





	1. Part One

**Author's Note:**

> This fic came about after I happened to find two gif that looked well together and posted 'Idea: Prince Emrys of Ealdor looks across the now peaceful aftermath of battle wondering who saved his life to see a handsome stranger looking back as he rides away'. To my surprise, an awful lot of people seemed to really love the prompt, so I challenged myself to give it a go. I so hope you enjoy this!
> 
> The title is Latin for Profund Love (or at least I hope it is, I only have google translate to guide me)

Ealdor was a kingdom only in name. There were no grand castles or nobles draped in finery, hidden atop the mountains that carved down into the valley of Fallen Kings. Instead, the clusters of quaint cottages and farmland hummed through the seasons in peace and utter prosperity. No harvest was ever unfruitful and the land was rich in gold; a jewel set in the crown of Albion. Their people lived with no army or fortress to guard them, yet no king nor queen dared to try and conquer that paradise for one small matter: Ealdor was the kingdom of the sorcerers.

King Balinor was in the twilight of his years and it fell to his only son, Prince Emrys, to secure the safety of their kin now his reign drew to its close. On that fateful morning, the Prince drank in the dawn light from the mountain’s edge, skipping stones into the deep ravine below as the sun bloomed. It was beautiful from up there, the water a gilded vein ebbing towards the horizon, the beating heart Albion rolling through its green and pleasant lands. Merlin looked over the scene and could not deny it was the most exquisite sight known in all creation; this was an immovable fact. As, indeed, was the loneliness that ached within him.

‘Daydreaming again?’ his mother’s voice fell softly into the breeze as she settled down by his side, ‘You know, my son, I have seen many places but this, _this_ , is the closest to heaven a mortal can fathom.’

With a heavy sigh, Merlin skipped another stone down into pools, nodding in solemn agreement. His eyes wandered down the steep mountain trail which lay silent as always, the flowers and weeds blurring its edge from lack of use, ‘Indeed.’

Queen Hunith may not have had magic, but she was no fool, and with a firm nudge managed to shake loose the thought perched in his head.

‘It won’t be long until I am king, now. It feels...well, it feels a little empty. And I’ve no idea why.’

Hunith looked back over her shoulder fondly at the villages above, ‘A whole kingdom at his feet and my son despairs.’

He gathered himself to his feet, the moss soft under his boots as the wind whipped gently through his emerald cloak, ‘You know that’s not what I mean.’

‘Well, my boy, perhaps if you spoke to people rather than just…’

‘And who is there to speak to who I haven’t known my whole life?’ his smile existed only on the surface, a dulled sadness in his eyes, ‘I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be ungrateful.’

Hunith wrapped an arm over his shoulders, her own voice now low and forlorn, ‘Ealdor is isolated for a reason, my son. You are too young to remember the Lot, and Bayard, and _Uther_. Thank god you don’t.’ she swallowed down some painful memory before her face grew stern, ‘I miss the world out there, but Ealdor is the only safe place for those with magic and those who love us.’

With one last stone skipped over the precipice, the prince resigned himself, as he did every morning, to another day in the same few miles of land, the same faces, and the life planned out from birth, ‘I’ll be fine. I will. Here is where I am meant to be, after all.’ he held out a hand to help her up, strolling back up to the main village just as his people began to stir awake.

The prince watched as the children sat around a small fire conjuring shapes, tounges sticking out of their mouths with concentration. He knelt beside them, and with a flick of his wrist, a mighty dragon sprang forth from the flames. Their laughter brought a smile to his face, 'You'll get there. I wasn't ten until I could master it.' he reassured.

'Merlin! Merlin'' the prince started to his feet as Will, his only true friend, flung himself through the grass, his face burning with sweat, 'They're coming.'

'Who?'

Will panted, 'I don't know! I don't know but…'

Before he could finish, Merlin heard the screaming hoard. They tore through the skyline, axes slashing through the air, ‘Get the children to safety.’ Merlin strode forward, his strong thighs carrying him skyward, the flames of magic brimming in his eyes. He pressed his palms against the storm of soilers, ‘Avolare!’

The first line of mercenaries was flung back but as their bodies fell like rag dolls, his efforts revealed only more assailants.

‘W...Why would they attack?’ Merlin uttered, his hands starting to fall to his sides.

‘We’ll ask later.’ came the rumbling baritone voice of his father, ‘Right now, we must protect the village.’ he turned his darkened gaze to the assault slicing through the village, ‘Secare descendit!’ 

With a shudder, Merlin watched their bodies torn in half, for the first time seeing the flicker of his father from the war stories. His eyes fell on the trickle of blood creeping through the undergrowth to his feet. He couldn’t move. He’d never seen death before. A shout came from above.

The flash of an axe swung. The scythe of death bore down on Merlin, frozen to the spot. He would die as he had lived, cowered in the mountains.

A sudden push threw the prince stumbling backwards to the clash of metal. In the confusion, the face of the man who saved him was swept into a violent blur of steel through sinew as he was thrown back into the fight.

The people rushed from their homes onto the battleground. Those with magic brought forth the tides of storm to wrench the soldiers from their feet, and those without ran fearlessly into battle with their swords raised in rageful hands. Merlin backed towards the children huddled in their fear, ‘Praesidium.’ he whispered, cloaking them in a field of crackling energy that surged through his bones, ‘Close your eyes.’ he commanded, lest they witness the attackers struck down with whips of lightning. 

Every witch and warlock stood firm, the raw energy of their magic beating back the brigade until only one man was left standing; all others fled or feeding the soil their blood.

‘Vinea!’ bellowed King Ballinor, causing thorn-ridden vines to rip through the ground, holding their hostage in place, he turned to his son, ‘Are you hurt?’

‘No...There was...someone saved me...someone…’ he spun around to catch sight of man, hair of woven gold, disappearing down the mountain pass without a word, ‘He saved my life.’

Ballinor looked over to see the path now vacant, ‘Whoever he was, he must be your guardian angel, my boy. But we have no time to think on this.’ He marched towards the hostage who cried out as the thorns clawed through his skin, ‘Who sent you? Why lay siege to Ealdor?’ with the torturous clench of his fist, the vines grew tighter, ‘Why?’

With a screech of effort, the soldier sprang free his blade and pierced his own chest, ‘Long live the Queen.’

…

A son, a prince, a warlock; Merlin was all of these things, but above all, a healer. His hands shook as he murmured spells over the wounds of his people, and his eyes welled deep with tears as he drew forth flowers to shroud the fallen. No one else could bring themselves to bury the dead of the attackers and so Prince Emrys, one by one, closed their eyes and swallowed them into Ealdors sacred earth. They did not deserve such an honour, but Merlin couldn’t bear it; Their glass eyes rolled in the cold swill of death.

As night drew in over the silent day, Merlin found he hadn’t spoken a word since the battle. His breath faltered as he tried to rub the images of the dead from his eyelids when he spied something. Peering over the mountain’s edge, a faint crack of fire arose from a plateau just off the beaten pass. Merlin found himself walking down the path before he could understand why. The onyx sky pressed down on him, starless, but even the possibility of running into the escaped attackers didn’t slow his pace. 

He turned off the path and onto the broad ridge just as the fire went out.’

‘Damn it.’ came a voice from the darkness before the hasty spark of flint.

Steadying his hand, Merlin eased forward, feet silent on the moss, ‘Ignis.’ The flames whispered into life to the metallic glide of a sword being drawn, ‘It’s you.’

Before him, a young man feathered in amber light came to pause. Squinting into the shadow he inched forward, his feet snaking past each other with the assured footwork of a knight. His simple clothes clung to his firm body, the ivory white of his open tunic dusted with the remembrance of blood.

‘Who are you? Show yourself.’

Merlin approached cautiously, passing into the veil of light with palms held up in peace. The man before him relaxed his sword with a breathless smile.

'I am…'

'Prince Emrys.' the man's eyes wouldn't leave Merlin's face, 'I know...So, you lived then?'

'Thanks to you.' Merlin's voice was barely above a murmur, 'I don't know how to thank you…'

'Arthur.' he extended a hand to the prince, taking Merlin's into his with a soft bow, 'It's an honour.' and he pressed his lips to Merlin's delicate fingers, 'The first sight of death makes statues of us all, my liege. I'm only glad I could help. Please, join me.’

Still feeling the kiss on his hand, the prince went to take a tentative seat on the floor when Arthur lay down his cloak for him to sit upon. His fingers stroked the frayed crimson, brushing over the gold embroidery. The crest of a dragon sparked his recognition, ‘Arthur? Arthur _Pendragon_?’

Arthur rested his elbows on his hunched-up knees, puffing out a sigh towards the fire, ‘For my sins, yes.’

‘What’s the king of Camelot doing all the way out here?’

Arthur sucked his bottom lip, ‘I’m not the… Morgana rules Camelot now.’ he peered at Merlin’s questioning gaze, ‘Do you not know?’

Merlin drew his legs into his chest, careful not to sully the cloak he rested in with the mahogany mud caked to his boots, ‘We never leave. No one ever comes. For many years I thought Camelot was a place that existed only in fairy tales.’

The young Pendragon sighed, ‘Fairy tales at least have a happy ending. And there are far worse places to lay your head than here.’ he rubbed his eyes before steeling himself, ‘My father was a...difficult man. And I’m sure you know, was no friend of magic. The hatred he had for magic pushed my sister to breaking point and she ran in the fear in he would take her life. I tried...I tried to protect her but it wasn’t enough. When she returned it was in the company of villains, hungry for power who seared her heart shut with their black magic. A mere month ago I watched as he murdered our father. All for a crown I would have willingly given her. It is impossible to reconcile the evil she is now with the kind-hearted sister I knew.’

‘There is no such thing as _black magic_ , Arthur.’ Merlin shuffled closer, 'Tell me, do you think fire evil?'

'Well...no. Why?'

His fingertips played against the blaze, pushing and pulling the tendrils with childish ease, 'Because fire does not mean to destroy; it merely breathes. And it is our choice if it is a breath of life or death. So, no, Arthur. Morgana is not prey to _black magic_ , only the darkness of the soul.' he embraced his eyes into Arthur's stare, 'She is not evil but lost.'

It took a moment, a moment in which eternity passed, for Merlin to remember to breathe. When his speech had fallen quiet, he’d found the usurped prince staring. Arthur’s lips parted slightly, lost of words at the clarity Merlin swept through his tortured soul, ‘I’ve never thought of it that way. Thank you.’

‘I don't know if there is, urm, a reason you wanted to make camp here and not, urm…’ Merlin began, trying not to drown in the crystalline blue of Arthur’s eyes, ‘Y...you shouldn’t be sitting here in the cold, anyway. You can stay with me.’ he caught himself, but not before Arthur was grinning, ‘I mean _us_. Stay with _us_ , in Ealdor. There’s plenty of shelter and food and…’

‘I will _happily_ stay with _you_.’

The young Pendragon heaved himself up on his feet, leaning down his hand to help Merlin up. The prince stumbled on his way being caught in Arthur’s arms, ‘Steady on. I don’t even know your first name yet.’

‘It’s Merlin.’

‘Right then, Merlin. I’ll walk you home then, shall I?’

Arm in arm, the pair began the long walk back up the mountain pass, and the ache in Merlin’s chest began to lift.

…

The steep incline was taken with nothing more than the soft, synchronised footsteps of the two princes. As they approached the summit, the pair saw that sleep evaded everyone in Ealdor, who huddled around pyres and spoke hushed over the crackle of flames.

Their hands fell slack as Hunith approached, her smile knowing 'And who might you be?'

'This is Arthur.'

'I do believe you are the man who saved my son's life today.' she brought the prince into her embrace, 'I cannot express my gratitude.’'

‘There is no need for thanks. Really, I…’ Arthur shifted uncomfortably away, 'I must admit I knew of the attack. I was riding here to give warning but...I was too late.’ the gathering began to crane towards him, ‘I intended to return in the morning, however…’ he suppressed a smile, his gaze not assured enough to meet Merlin’s, ‘It seems I was spotted.’

From the fireside, Will got up, ‘Arthur. Do you know _why_ they came here? Please. We have lost too many today.’

The people turned to Arthur expectedly and it wasn’t until he felt Merlin’s delicate touch he realised he was wringing his hands. He cleared his throat and took a seat at the fireside, ‘The attack was sent by Morgana Pendragon. You must know that this was not in a bid to take Ealdor, but a test of your defences.’

King Ballinor furrowed his brow, ‘The Pendragon seeks a _return_ to magic, does she not?’

‘She does… She did, but that is now not enough.’ Arthur slumped down in his seat, ‘My sister…’ the words tasted bitter as he sucked in air, ‘...wants power over all the kingdoms in Albion and wishes to use her magic to hold dominion over the land. The only thing standing in her way is here. Not just because the power of your magic equals hers but because as long as the people can see magic as a force for good, they will not yield, they will not lose hope. I am sad to say there is a war coming and you will have to all fight.’

Ever the one to speak his mind, Will shook his head in disbelief, ‘We are pacifists, Arthur. We can’t mow them down in cold blood. Ealdor was founded as a safe haven. A peaceful one.’ the younger generation all nodded in agreement, but the elders hung their head in solemnity.

‘You were spared the wars it took to secure Ealdor.’ Ballinor said, his eyes hung low in the dirt, ‘Those who oppressed us used every power they had. They burned, drowned, and hunted sorcerers, and it was only through winning wars, you were spared those horrors. And you will fight, Will. You will fight for your children as I fought for mine.’ his ochre eyes, framed in the tired wrinkles of age, fell on to Merlin, ‘And as I will again.’

…

Merlin adjusted the bedsheet three times, desperate to keep his hands busy,  
as Arthur sat down his small satchel. Rather than a palace, the Prince’s humble home was little more than a peasants, save for the luxury of a few bit of furniture and a single-window with glass. But even then, the rug and chair were worn artefacts from his mother's childhood home, tattered with age and loving repaired, while the bed was of Merlin’s own making after lighting struck down one of the giant oak trees three summers past.

‘It’s not much compared to the royal quarters of Camelot but I...I’ve always found it to be pleasant.’

Arthur smiled at him, ‘Don’t be silly, Merlin. Remember, I was going to sleep under my cloak tonight and this...this is lovely. Between you and me, I never really cared for living in a castle. All cold and grey.’ he jumped down onto the armchair in the corner, plush and worn for years of repairs, and pulled his cloak up over him.

‘Do you not…’ Merlin gestured to the bed, ‘You shouldn’t have to sleep in the chair.’

Arthur rolled his shoulder back comfortably, ‘But that’s your bed.’

‘Yes, I was going to go and sleep in the other room. You’re my guest, Arthur, the bed should go to you. I insist.’

‘Well, then I’ll make an insistence of my own.’ Arthur got to his feet and with one swift motion, pulled the loose fabric of his tunic over his head to be discarded on the floor, ‘We share.’

Merlin froze to the spot, swallowing hard to keep his focus from drifting down the sight before him. The fire cast deep shadows that swung low against the knots of muscles across Arthur’s chest, which rose and fell in the warm glow

‘I mean...I mean because there’s no fire in the other room.’ Arthur puffed air through his lips awkwardly, ‘You’ll catch your death otherwise.’

Merlin slowly reached up to the clasp of his cloak, ‘I guess you’re right. The bed’s big enough, anyway.’

All too aware of the eyes watching him, he let his emerald cloak pool around his feet like a hot spring. Arthur blushed as he watched, from under the thin cloak of his eyelashes, Merlin’s delicate fingers releasing the buttons of his shirt until he too stood silhouetted in the firelight. The two men, in the still quiet of the night, drank in the sight of each other. Perhaps outside of Ealdor, in Camelot, this was commonplace. Perhaps people were more forward, more direct. Or perhaps, Merlin dared to think, Arthur was just as startled by this feeling as he was. For a second longer, Merlin allowed his gaze to brush softly over the prince's exquisite form. Arthur began to move to the bed, his eyes shy but never leaving the bare, pale flesh of Prince Emrys, mesmerized with its angular curves, the sharp jut of his jaw above a tender, pulsing neck. They didn’t speak, indeed, they could not, as they lay side by side. The cold graze of metal stole Merlin’s breath, feeling the silver of the Pendragon’s seal ring envelope the tender caress of his finger, gently looped into Merlin's open palm.


	2. Part Two

As always, Merlin awoke in the final moments before dawn to make his way to watch the sunrise, but that morning, he didn’t want to move. As quietly as possible, he turned to look over at the prince lay sleeping next to him, finally relenting to the urge he’d had all that sleepless night. In the dim morning light, Arthur’s hair fell across the bed like soft straw, pale almond skin ebbing warm as it slipped from under the thin sheets. When Merlin finally stood, the prince rolled over to his side of the bed, sighing contentedly at the residual body heat as he yawned awake.

'Where you off too?' he lazily said, brushing the sleep from his eyes as Merlin pulled on a new tunic.

'I...I always go and watch the sunrise. Helps clear my head.'

Arthur swung his legs and let his bare feet press down on the cold stone, 'Do you want company?' he gave a cautious smile, although what he was cautious of Merlin couldn't guess.

Normally, those moments alone were hallowed for the young heir of Ealdor, the one chance he would get to be alone before another day of serving his people. More than that, the sweet taste of those first rays of the sun were the one thing he could truly claim as his own, and to share them often felt as though that person could see a little too clearly into his soul, yet...For the first time, he wanted someone to see him that clearly. He nodded to Arthur, who wasted no time getting dressed before they began the short walk away from the dwelling.

Arthur plonked down the grass, almost brashly, as his eyes searched the darkened landscape. Softly by his side, Merlin shifted closer; after all these years, he knew the exact moment the sun would appear, but Arthur didn't have a clue of the sight he would behold.

With a small smirk, Merlin leaned in, 'Three, two…'

Arthur gasped. An Aurelian light flooded the rich plains; every tree, every flower, every blade of grass bloomed into a new life.

'I've heard stories,' Arthur whispered, 'But nothing in the world could be as beautiful as this.'

'Yes, yes...I used to think that too.' The immoveable fact was pushed aside, as the most exquisite sight lay not out in those rolling hills, but sat by his side.

At that exact moment, far from Ealdor, a bloodied and bruised knight was flung to his knees in the cold court of Camelot.

Queen Morgana sipped from her chalice in disgust at the sight, 'You mean to say, you lost all your men, Mordred?'

'Not all, my lady. I hunted down those who proved themselves cowards and ran. Ealdor will not be taken easily.' the usurper grunted, smoothing down her slick black hair as Mordred got to his feet, 'But there is something else...He lives.'

Suddenly Morgana was on her feet, black cloak whipping around her as she flung Mordred into a vice grip suspended in the dry air, 'He lives? He lives!' with a thunderous smack, Mordred came crashing to the stone floor.

'H...he has been given shelter by Prince Emrys. They will know we plan to attack ag…' Morgana raised her hand to stop him.

Little was known of the kingdom of sorcerers, but the accounts that did surface spoke of the kindness and beauty of Emrys. Much like Arthur, the prince had been born the son of a warlord but was spared the passing of his rage. A healer who lived humbly in the mountains of Albion who had never known the persecution of his kind first hand, unlike her. He hadn't had to fight for his right to live, to breath, to come to power, that boy. Morgana cast her eyes down to the stones of the throne room still thronged with the deep maroon of her father's throat.

Slowly, ever so slowly, a twisted smile took root, 'Then God help them both.'

…  
 _Ballinor stood alone amongst the rubble. The castles that cracked black with ash were looming shadows of former grandeur in his wake. Torn by battle, his face was fired red with scars the would doubtlessly join him in the grave. The soldiers, the ones left alive, had their faith ripped asunder by the carnage; Lots kingdom fell by a single dragon's breath.  
High above, the great dragon Killgarrah swept across the ashen sky until Ballinor finally called him to rest._

_The young man roared, 'This ends now!' his eyes stung at the sight of the fallen, twisted in their final torment with eyes of glass, 'Both sides have lost too many; my people want peace!'_

_Through the smoke, only one man emerged. In that sharp dawn light, Ballinor saw the malice of his grief had turned the once handsome king grey and haggard._

_'Uther. We didn't want a war. We, you and I, we can end this now! No more lives should be lost to your prejudice!'_

_The Pendragon snarled a laugh, 'The lives lost today are solely at your hand, sorcerer. For as long as you and your filthy kind remain, there will never be peace.' his boots crunched through a fired skull on the battlefield, 'All this blood lies at your feet.' he drew his sword, 'This will end now, and it will end with you.'_

_The king charged forward, screaming with rage, yet Ballinor only sighed. With a press of his palm, Uther flew backwards, his head smacking against the ruins of stone._

_'No. Not one more death. Not even if I deserve it...We will leave.' his face was unmoving, hauling breaths through a body that could never be washed clean of its crimes, 'We will all leave.'_

_He went to walk away when he heard the laughter. A flurry of both Lots and Uther's men surged forward, shoving and spitting at who they had in their grasp._

_Staring up at him, forced to her knees in the dirt, Hunith looked up at him._

_'You can leave if you want, Ballinor, and your beloved can die. Or you can give yourself up, and I'll allow her to live.'_

_The young woman, covered in soot and blood, held firm as she nodded to her love, 'Go. I'd rather die than have you in chains. Go.'_

_Getting to his feet, Uther wiped clean his face and staggered over, pressing his blade to Hunith's neck. Ballinor couldn't help but cry out, 'See, Hunith. He is weak. And he will yield.' Uther squared his shoulders, 'You cannot murder us with dragon fire without murdering her…'_

_The arrogance of his voice drifted with what appeared like a crack of lightning between Ballinors fingers. The young and innocent eyes of the boy took one last glance at the face of his love, of her belly swollen with their child and saw it was a sight worth dying for. And he did die, for when his eyes opened again, it was as a man. Ballinor the Unforgiving drew his first breath._

'Father?' Ballinor stirred from his memories at his son's voice, 'Father, what do you think?'

He soothed the memory perched between his temples and stood up, a firm hand placed on Arthur's shoulder, 'I think it's a good idea. I'm just sad this is something we will have to do.' he sighed, 'I never thought I'd see the day when a Pendragon was willing to fight alongside us.'

Arthur gave a solemn nod, 'It will be my honour.'

'Oh to be young,' Ballinor muttered to himself, 'There is no honour in battle, my boy, but you have my gratitude. For those who don't have magic here, learning to fight with a sword could save their lives.'

'I'll begin at first light tomorrow with the people. I'll begin now with Prince Emrys; it'll be useful for them to see their heir ready to take up arms.'

‘Thank you, Arthur. Please go prepare, I need a moment with Merlin.' Arthur nodded and walked away as Ballinor beckoned Merlin to sit down, 'You know I may not survive this fight and…'

'Don't say…'

'Hush.' his father leaned forward, craning his neck to see Arthur talk with the blacksmiths, 'Whatever happens, if Ealdor survives this battle, I will no longer be its king. It is time for us to move forward. Do you understand me?' The weight of responsibility robbed Merlin's lungs of air, 'We are not like Camelot, the strain of rule is much lesser, but still, I could never have established peace without your mother. And my life would have been desperately lonely without her by my side.’ he turned to his son, who looked on with confusion, ‘What I’m trying to say, Merlin, is when the time comes I don’t wish you to shoulder the kingdom on your own. Think on this.’

…

The pair found a quiet spot above the village in the dying sunlight to begin Merlin's training, the blonde prince huffing dejectedly at his student's bad start, 'You need to hold the hilt with both hands, Merlin, or you'll drop it…' Merlin rolled his eyes and clapped his second hand on, jabbing forward, 'And you don't want to stab. It needs to be a gliding movement, cutting across the body. The only time you can stab is when they are disarmed. Okay, try again.'

Merlin turned his body to the side, rolling his shoulders until the sword lay still, aimed at Arthur. With a grunt of effort, he spun the blade toward him, only to have the prince knock it out of his hands once more.

'You need to tighten your grip if you want to win.'

'Or I could just do this.' 

Arthur yelped as his sword glowed red with heat, clattering down to set fire to the grass. Opened mouthed in shock, he looked up to see Merlin giggling.

'Perhaps sword fighting was the wrong place to start.' he smirked, 'Let's try hand to hand combat.' and he lunged at Merlin, fists clenched. The warlock laughed as he batted away Arthur hands with flicks of his wrists before he conjured vines in the ground to trip him flat on his back.

'I think I might've bested you there.' Merlin reached down a hand to help Arthur up, 'I think I can defend…' suddenly Arthur pulled him to the ground, whipping his body around to pin Merlin's wrists behind his head, straddled on the meadow floor.

'Fighting is psychological Merlin. The moment you assume you cannot lose is the moment you do.'

The Ealdorian prince caught his breath just as Arthur lost his. Merlin's ruffled hair splayed out like raven's feathers in the lush of wildflowers, the angular curve of his smile dissolving into some strange anticipation. His lips parted slightly as Arthur, haloed in the sunset, looked upon the delicate body lay quivering beneath him.

'We should…I should…' he mouthed, his grip loosening from Merlin's wrists to gently caress his face with the back of his fingertips.

He lightly pressed his lips into Arthur's palm, a wordless question placed in those soft movements. Tentatively, Arthur lowered himself until Merlin's warm breath slipped like honey down his collar bone, tangling his fingers into the young prince's hair. They tasted the first chaste bliss of one another. And in that sweet rapture of a kiss, neither man, in all their lives, had ever felt such peace.

Night quickly swept over them then, and Arthur, reluctantly remembering to be chivalrous, helped Merlin to his feet. They clasped hands as the swan song of the day breezed around them until they finally reached the door of Merlin's small home.

With a reluctant sigh, Arthur kissed Merlin's hand, 'Goodnight Prince Emrys.'

He slung his jacket over his shoulder and began to walk away into the brisk night. 

‘Where...where are you going?’ 

Arthur turned to see the Prince looking bemused at him and leaned forward awkwardly, ‘Well...I’m not sure I should stay after…’ he smiled to himself, ‘After I kissed you this evening. I’d hate for you to think I was less than a gentleman so, I’ll go stay at the Inn.’

Merlin tittered, ‘What Inn? We have no visitors, Arthur, we don’t even trade with the other kingdoms. Besides I’d be lying if I…’ he caught himself, biting down on his lips to repress his thoughts, ‘Everyone will be asleep by now.’ he gestured his eyes towards the empty town square as he squeezed his forearm in the cold, cocking his head towards the front door.

‘You’re a Prince, Merlin. You deserve to be properly courted.’ Despite himself, Arthur found his feet gradually leading him back.

He kicked his boots against the tufts of grass, eyes cast down as he flustered, ‘And what would you do if I wasn’t a Prince, Pendragon?’ Arthur stopped in his tracks as the sharp blue eyes turned on him, ‘What if we were just two men?’

‘Then I’d take you straight to bed.’

‘Well then…’ Merlin stepped into the house leaving the door ajar as he went to light the fire. His heart hammered in his chest as shaking fingers took off this cloak, loosening the ties of his tunic as he waited for the sound of footsteps that might not come.

Arthur stared at the open door. He ran a hand through his hair, turning away to check no one was watching his dilemma. Except it wasn’t a dilemma. Not at all. In fact, he’d never been so certain of what he wanted in his whole life. His eyes traced the amber glow of the fire through the clouded windowpane, a shadowed Merlin shedding his clothes before the bed.

War was coming. 

There might not be another chance.

Merlin started as the door slammed shut. Arthur surged forward. His strong arms enveloped Merlin’s bare chest in one swift movement, pulling their bodies together in a breathless kiss. He cradled the back of his head, the mighty Pendragon reduced to an anxious wreck, ‘I...I’ve never…’

Merlin kissed him desperately, pushing their bodies towards the bed, stumbling and grasping ‘Neither have I.’ 

Arthur suddenly spun them around, falling over Merlin as they crashed into the warm sheets.

…

The hoard began riding in the dead of night. It would take three days to reach Ealdor, but despite the bitter chill of the wind, Morgana could wait no longer. The army reached the edge of the forest of Essitir by dusk and set up a small camp under the cloak of the sacred oak trees.

Mordred slid off his horse and offered a hand to the Queen, 'My lady, if I may discuss battle plan for a moment?' she gave a curt nod, dusting down her dress, 'May I suggest we take the eastern route? It is slightly longer, but it means we will be able to arrive while the kingdom sleeps. Given they have no warning bell it will provide you a swift victory.'

The Pendragon Queen chewed over the proposal, 'A wise suggestion Mordred. We might make a general of you yet.'

The young knight breathed a sigh of relief, 'Thank you, Morgana. I'll tell the…'

'But of course, you're forgetting that our victory is inevitable.'

'I didn't mean to suggest I doubted you my…'

'We will ride the western route for one reason and one alone; They will see us coming, and they will know all is lost before that it has even begun.' she fluttered her bejewelled fingers towards the trees, 'Mortem.' the leaves withered to dust and the ground shrivelled beneath their feet. 

The army fell silent at the barren forest of death.

'They say the sunrise in Ealdor is beautiful, so the sunrise will be the first to fall.'

…

Merlin had never slept so soundly. He awoke late, having missed the sunrise entirely to be cradled in Arthur's arms near noon. 

Looking up, he caught Arthur gazing down, 'Morning my prince.'

Merlin's laughed, snuggling closer into his chest, 'I know I am a prince, but that's still a bad line.'

'I'll have to up my game.' the Pendragon smiled, pushing a kiss between the messy black locks, 'Slept well? You were snoring.'

'I do not snore!'

'No, no, it was adorable. We should get up, though.' he threw his head back in a sigh, 'I need to get the people...oh my...Merlin...well, I…' he caught his breath 'If you're going to do that then an extra half hour can't hurt.'

Sometime later, the pair dressed and left Merlin's home only to find Hunith and Will looking knowingly at them; a duet of blushes returned back.

'Those who are able to fight are waiting just down that way Arthur.' Hunith gently took him by the shoulder and guided him away, giving a cursory glance back to her son. 

Will, as was his nature, was not quite as tactful when he jabbed Merlin in the ribs, 'You look happy. Wonder why that is.' Merlin gave him a withering stare as his old friend took his arm, 'I am surprised though. Never thought I'd see the day Prince Emrys fell for a blonde.' he caught Merlin's blush, 'He seems nice though… and, well...keen. you'll have to tell me all about it when I'm back.'

'Where are you going?'

Will stuffed his hands into his pockets, ‘You know me, Merlin, I have two left feet; do you really think I’d be any use with a sword?’ he cocked his head towards the horizon, ‘But I am the best hunter here and knowing how to cover my tracks will be useful when tracking Morgana and her army.’

Merlin started around, ‘Will, you can’t, it’s too dangerous!’

‘Says the boy about to lead his people into battle.’ he arched an eyebrow as Merlin sighed, unable to argue with him, ‘It will be okay. I’ll be back by sundown tomorrow, and I never break a promise.’

Looking over his shoulder as he rode down the mountain pass, Will watched and Merlin and Arthur bid him fair well. The first leg of the journey was pleasant, still in Ealdors lands, and he mused quietly on his friend the prince. He did what he could, to be there for him, but Merlin always had this curious loneliness about him since childhood. Will always thought it was because he had no siblings, but as they got older, he came to realise that was just the way he was; quiet and reserved, happy to sit and practice spells always lost in his own thoughts, aside from the rare occasions the two would go drinking. He laughed to himself as he stopped to water his horse in by the river, running a hand through his hair at the fond memory of them sneaking out to a neighbouring village in disguise; the idea all Will's, of course.

_'Gosh that's strong!' Merlin winced over the pint of mead he settled on the table in front of him, 'What the hell sit hey make this out of?'_

_'Oh stop being such a wimp; it's nice!' Will tried his best to conceal the distant for the bitter taste in his mouth, 'So...See anyone you like?'_

_Merlin tilted his head, eyebrow raised, before giving a suddenly knowing sigh, 'oh so that's why you wanted to sneak out. There I was thinking this was just a fun trip but, oh no, Will is on the prowl...again.'_

_Will scanned the room over Merlin's shoulder, 'Well you could meet someone too...in fact.' he pointed as Merlin cautiously looked around, 'Think you're in there.' Merlin just caught the sight of a young man, shaggy brown hair resting on his shoulders, wink at him before he bolted his gaze back on Will, 'You've gone bright red!'_

_Suddenly fond of the drink, Merlin gulped down near half of it, 'W...why is he looking at me like, like that?'_

_'Ask him yourself.' Merlin started panicking as he realised what was about to happen. Will raised his hand and gave a warm smile, 'Join us.'_

_The Man swaggered over, turning his chair around before straddling the seat, 'Im Gwaine. And who might you be?'_

_'He's Merlin.'_

_Gwaine looked him up and down with a smug grin, 'Pleasure. And you are?'_

_'In need of the loo.' he winked at Merlin, 'Back in a bit.' he felt the prince's eyes burn helplessly into the back of his head as he went over to the bar to chat to a young woman he had his eye on since they first arrived.  
Before Will knew it, over an hour had passed, and he excused himself politely from the lady's company to check on his friend. Problem was, he wasn't there. Suddenly in a panic of his own, Will raced out into the warm summer air, racing through the streets. There was no one, nothing, he'd lost the prince of...he came to a sudden halt as Merlin appeared in front of him. He was smiling right until he saw Will, and was then just overcome with embarrassment as he pulled the twigs and leaves from his hair._

_'And there I was thinking you were shy, Merls.'_

_He smirked as his friend gingerly waved goodbye to Gwaine, who was wearing the foliage in his hair like a badge of honour as he climbed back onto his horse. Merlin leaned over the Will as the handsome stranger rode away, 'You tell my dad and I'll kill you.'_

_'I won't, I won't...But you have to tell me everything. This is the first exciting thing that's happened since we were born.'_

_'Sadly I think you're right there.' he took Will's arm in his, 'We should be getting back before anyone notices.'_

_'You should clean those mud stains off your knees then.'_

With a fond jab to ribs, Will dutifully never mentioned it again and, of course, said nothing on those occasions where he'd spy Merlin riding out in the middle of the night with the man. He didn't know the nature of their relationship if you could call it that, but it was true to say there was something markedly changed in his dear friend. He played with the children, tended the fields, and slowly started to take on responsibilities of ruling by speaking each week with the council of village representatives. But more than that, Merlin was happy.

As winter came, the young prince's boe wasn't to be seen, and all Will managed to coax out of his friend was that Gwaine got into some sort of trouble. He promised to return, but only if Merlin promised not to waste away his youth waiting for him. They were still waiting for that day when Arthur arrived, nearly five years later. Not that Merlin was one to pine, but it was good to see him and Arthur together after so many years alone. The Pendragon had a quiet tenderness underneath the regality of his appearance; Will found it hard to imagine him ruling over the biggest kingdom in Albion given how well suited he seemed to the modest plains of Ealdor.

And it was as Will pondered this thought, his vision went red. It took a full minute for his body to process the pain and realise the redness over the trees and water was, in fact, his own blood pouring down from his forehead. The last thing he was as a man stood over him, young but with the hollow eyes of war before the branch came plummeting down once more.

…

Merlin dropped his sword. He blinked rhythmically, expression blank before he fell. Luckily, his mother managed to catch him; after those torturous years with Ballinor after the war, she knew a vision when she saw one. The young man she raised shook like a little boy in her arms, and with one swift glance, she dismissed all the people, all except Arthur.

Arthur batted away the crowd gathering as Merlin began to convulse. His eyes rolled into the back of his head for a moment of strained stillness before his tension broke, leaving the prince lying limp and gasping for air through his trembling mouth. 

Arthur wanted to rush to his side but Hunith held him with a calm understanding, 'What did you see my son?'

He began babbling incoherently, abandoning every word before completion with tears in his eyes. Hunith gently pressed on his chest, their eyes meeting, and he managed to calm down enough to speak, 'Will. S...something…something bad...there was blood.' The crowd fell to a hush, 'I c…can't see him anymore. It's all black. Oh god what if…'

'Merlin.' his mother was firm, 'We will send out riders right away. And remember Merlin, visions aren't always literal. He is probably fine.' she looked at Arthur as she spoke, her son staring up at the sky as though it might crash down upon them all, and the Pendragon helped Merlin to his feet. He insisted to continue teaching, that he was fine, that it was all probably nothing, but Arthur knew Merlin was covering up how scared he was. For the rest of the session, Arthur kept looking over his shoulder at the despondent young man casting protection spells into the distance.

…

Many leagues away, Will finally came back to consciousness in the dead of night. He went to stretch but found his hands bound behind him to a post. He deeply inhaled, the wound on his head unseen yet but pulsing raw. Raising his distorted eyes, his view fell upon a majestic woman with silk black hair cascading down her shoulders; she looked down at him with the disdain of a superior being. He was certain.

'Morgana Pendragon.'

The queen scoffed, 'Morgana Gorlois. And you, you strange little creature, must be from Ealdor. Tell me, what are the plans for battle?'

With a smirk and a spit, Will cocked his head upward, 'As if they need a plan. The most powerful sorcerer will easily win against you.'

'The most powerful sorcerers?' she punctuated every word with a mocking glee, 'Perhaps once...But no more. certainly, if you are the best spy they can muster!' she let out a hearty laugh before her face dropped without warning, 'Mordred, if you please?'

Will faintly recognised the man coming towards him, the one with the darkened eyes, but he did not weird a weapon. Instead, he approached with care cradling a small ornate box. Will squinted his eyes as Mordred approached. He swore he could hear a faint hissing from inside.

‘You have grown up around Magic but there are many things the tyrant Ballinor ignores from the Old Religion out of honour, but is it not honour at all. During the war with my father, Ballinor utilised every instrument of torture at his disposal, magical and otherwise, and he was known for this one. Have you heard of the Nathair?’ she grinned, ‘It burrows beneath the victim's skin and causes an unspeakable pain that forces the truth from your mind; any truth I desire.’ 

Mordred opened the box and an intricate twirl of her fingers, the serpent slithered forward, it’s eyes glowing red and fangs tipped silver. Will felt four pairs of hands hold him in place against the post and was stuck in place, powerless against the beast upon him. The creature lacerated the skin of his neck with one foul drag of its jaw, pushing into the wound with a burning agony.

Morgana came close to his ear, the man in such intense pain he couldn't even scream, as she whispered, ‘It will stop when you tell me what I want to know. Now, my dear brother Arthur, is he wounded?’

‘N...no.’ the fevered agony rushed through into his mind, weakening all will he had left.

‘What are his plans?’

‘He intends to fight with the people of Ealdor.’ Will’s voice became faint, he could hardly summon breath, ‘H...He is teaching them to fight… He and M...M...Prince Emrys, they will fight together.’

Morgana chewed over the caution in his voice. Even with the Nathair slid like burning mercury through his veins, the young man still seemed to be hiding something.

‘Go on.’

He gulped like a fish but shook his head, ‘You can kill m...me now.’

‘I can make it worse.’ Morgana placed a fingertip against the snake the writhed under his chest and the shockwaves of heat scorched his skin from the inside out, ‘What is it you do not want me to know?’

‘T..the prince…’ Will battled with his mind, ‘Merlin...Arthur they are…The were to...together last…’

The pain came to an abrupt halt and Will collapsed to the floor with the serpent leaving his body. Morgana loomed above him with a triumphant smile, ‘You needn’t go on, my dear. I know my brother well enough to gather what he feels for Prince Emrys. It will be delightful to watch him as I..’

There was a commotion in the camp but Will was too weak to understand what was going on. He heard the clashing of swords, a scream, and briefly the wounded body of Morgana thrown to the floor. Just before he fainted, he felt someone untie his hands, briefly glimpsing a man's face, framed in chestnut hair and roughly brushed with stubble.

‘It’s alright Will, it’s alright. Let’s get you home, eh? Will?’

And he faded back into the painless bliss of unconsciousness.

...

By the time the training session was over, Arthur was pleased with the progress the people had made. Aside from the knights, the army was not rigorously trained in Camelot and the basics of sword fighting might just be enough to keep the enemy at bay long enough to defeat Morgana’s magic. He agreed to meet with them all again tomorrow for practice before he made his way down to the mountain edge where Merlin sat. To his surprise, the prince was composed.

‘Do you think we can win, Arthur?’ his voice was expressionless, ‘Do you think we will survive?’

Arthur sat down, ‘I think Ealdor stands a good chance, yes. Morgana is powerful but...her men are forced to fight, whereas your people will fight for each other as much as themselves. There’s a certain strength in that which she cannot match.’

‘I will kill her myself if she has harmed Will.’ his voice remained steady, but his body trembled tense, ‘I can’t see him, I can’t find him in my visions, there's just...’

He stopped as Arthur wrapped his arm around him, ‘I don’t know Will, but if he is brave enough to ride out alone then he is strong enough to survive, Merlin.’

‘I’m sorry. She’s your sister, I shouldn’t have said that.’ 

Arthur gave a sad smile, ‘Your forget, Merlin; she slaughtered all my knights. They were more than friends, they were brothers to me, and they were slaine in cold blood simply to break my spirit. So, don’t apologise. But I won’t let you kill her, you shouldn't have to live with blood on your hands. It must be me.’ he sighed, ‘If she doesn’t get me first.’

‘Don’t speak that way.’ Merlin's eyes held an urgent fear, ‘I won’t lose you, Arthur. I can’t lose...’ he caught himself, but was quietly resolute, tenderly stroking his face, ‘I can’t lose you.’

There was an unspoken truth passing between them. It had been mere days and they were both men, men who knew better than to fall so quickly, but fall they did. Arthur knew war where Merlin didn’t, and he knew better than most that the unthinkable can happen, so he made up his mind.

Their hands entwined, Arthur slipped from Merlin’s grip and bit his lip in thought. He didn’t see Merlin’s questioning gaze as he slowly slipped off the silver sigil ring from his finger, ‘P...Perhaps it's too soon. Well, it most definitely is but there’s a battle coming so...’ any doubt he had was washed away in the cool pools of Merlin’s eyes, ‘A promise. A promise that we will survive this and, when we do, I am forever yours, my prince. If, that is, you want me.’

Arthur didn’t realise what was happening until he saw the silver glinting on Merlin’s slender finger, ‘I don’t have a ring for you though.’ the prince looked almost embarrassed, staring down at the ornate silver with nothing to give in return. He reached into the grass and Arthur watched as a small delicate flower came to bloom in the purest white. Merlin tender tucked it behind his ear and placed a soft kiss on his cheek, ‘Flowers suit you, Pendragon. You should wear them for eternity, my love.’

‘For you, I will.’

The lover shared a gentle kiss, Merlin's hands held against Arthur’s warm chest. The pair took in the sunset, embraced in each other. For all the pain that might come, they had this moment. They’d found each other in the midst of chaos and the future, surely would be bright. Merlin looked over the sunset, his head rested on Arthurs's shoulder before he started to his feet.

‘Can you see it? There, by the river!’

Arthur jumped up and desperately across the horizon. Squinting his eyes, he saw a lone rider in the distance galloping towards Ealdor with a limp body held in front of him. Merlin closed his eyes as he reached out. He nodded, ‘It’s Will. Someone save Will. Oh, he’s going to be…’

‘Merlin. Look.’

He raised his eyes. On the tail of the riders, the earth beneath the horse's feet was swept ashen black. The dirt rose into a fog clogging the light. The rich pastures, the ancient oaks, the lush blankets of wildflowers…the shroud of death engulfed them all. The tiny figures barely outran the scythe of darkness.

Merlin and Arthur clasped hands instinctively just as the sun itself surrendered to the shadow.


End file.
